You're not dead yet

​ There were about three instances in my life when I felt completely hopeless and could not snap out of my depressed state. These were times when I could not find a silver lining. They were times that I could not remember a time when I was pregnant with my Haze and my husband and I had been trying to implement a new sobriety plan. The plan, this time, was that he would go into an inpatient facility for two weeks, after which he would get the Naltrexone implant. Three days into this plan, Hamlet ran away from rehab. I was so exhausted and just sick of the disappointment. I remember going upstairs and laying in bed as he stayed in the downstairs bathroom and fixed. When he had his fill, he came upstairs and he kneeled next to the bed and asked me what we were going to do next. He tried to keep his eyes wide open but he was nodding off and couldn't look at me straight. I felt so hopeless. We'd done it all at this point and I was sure nothing would fix him. So I looked him in the eyes and I kissed him and said,

"Ok Hamlet, I give up. You are free to use heroin as much as you want. You clearly love that thing more than me, and I am so sure now I cannot stop you anymore. Who were we kidding? we got married based on the hope that I could change you or that having a child could change you, but it can't. Now I am stuck, I am stuck because I will be humiliated if I leave, and even if I did leave, what would I do? A single mom with no job, no formal education, no prospects and nothing to aspire to. I am not staying because I love you, because eventually that love will fade, and so will any respect that I have for you. I will be miserable, but I'll stay. "

He looked me in the eyes, and I could have swore he was about to cry. But he knew better; he knew better than to mimic human emotions when I was aware of how numb he was at that moment. Maybe when he got dope sick and remembered my words, he would cry, but not now. What he did do was assure me that he does not want to live that way. He called the rehab directors moments later and went right back to rehab the same night. He ran away a second and possibly a third time before he himself realized he is hopeless. He made the decision to get the implant without properly detoxing. He knew he would go into palpitated withdrawals, and he has gone through it before, but he said he would do it for me. That was the first time ever that he put my happiness and peace of mind above his. After the withdrawals which spanned for about 3 days of heavy vomiting and sweating followed by 1 week of awkward silence and depression, we enjoyed a whole glorious 3 months of wedded bliss before he was remanded into custody during his court date. Still, those three months were enough to revive me and revive our marriage. We began to feel like a normal married couple. NORMAL what a beautiful word for someone who has not experienced it in so long. He went to work, went to meetings, and spent the rest of his time spoiling me with love and fun dates. God! we were so happy. Those 3 months, though short lived, fueled me for what seemed to be a lifetime of being separated.

The day he was remanded into custody had to be the worst day of my life. We were finally enjoying each other and he was taken away from me for a stupid crime he didn’t commit. When the Judge gave the order to remand him into custody, I literally felt my soul escape my body as I screamed "No!!" loudly enough for the entire courtroom to turn around and look at me. He looked so calm as they took him away and he turned around and lipped, "I Love You Baby". Then he said in a low whisper, "Don't cry mamas". I continued to cry as the bailiff asked me to wait to get the car keys and his personal belonging, one of them being our wedding band which I wore around my neck until he came back. When the bailiff handed these to me, I let out a loud sob once more before walking out of the court room. I went home that day and I put on Avril Lavigne’s “When you’re Gone” and I didn’t just cry, I sobbed bitterly, clenching onto a shirt of his that still smelled like him. He had a distinct smell, a combination of Marlboro lights, deodorant, Axe body spray, and cologne with a twist of peppermint gum. (I would later keep that shirt sealed in a bag so to retain that smell and put it under Haze’s head as she slept. )

At first, I had lost my will to live. I felt so alone and all I could do was pray for something to change. I prayed every night for God to do his will upon us and save our little family, Nothing changed. Court date after court date and 15 thousand dollars of lawyer and investigator fees later he was sentenced to 6 years. I spent a whole year sulking, even after my daughter was born. I felt dead inside. It wasn’t fair to me, it wasn’t fair to my daughter. So I got myself back up. I wasn’t dead yet.

When he came home, two and a half years later, I already had a job, I had my almost 2 year old daughter and I had a beautiful apartment that I had rented for us and had designed all by myself. I had set a foundation. What we had wasn't much, but it was enough to build on, and I was excited to start building. It had been no more than 10 days that he was home when the fights started. They started slow with yelling matches and eventually they turned violent with both of us pushing and shoving, Him a little bit more than me. I knew he was using but I hadn't found his stash so I couldn't prove it. Then the unthinkable happened; I took a pregnancy test. I remember thinking how terrible the timing was and how I could not do this right now. He convinced me we would work through our issues and that drugs were not involved. It wasn't until we had one of our more vicious fights where he took and hid my engagement ring, that I went looking for the ring, reached into his disgusting old jacket's pocket and pulled out a paper clip and a straw wrapped in a napkin. I found the smoking gun. I walked out of my apartment telling him he has a week to get the fuck out. & He did. I walked into my home exactly one week later and checked the entire home. He was gone. Everything that belonged to him was gone. I fell to my knees in my living room and I sobbed loudly. I sobbed, not for him, but for the death of my fairytale. So many years of loving him ended with me kicking him out. Who would have guessed it? Not me. Not anyone who has ever known our story. I let it all sink in for a minute and then I picked myself up, poured me a cup of coffee, and decided then and there that I was better off alone. I wasn’t dead yet. I had one beautiful child and another on the way. I had to keep up a Happy demeanor, if not for me then for them. However, that was my only purpose and reason for being. My kids. Mariam, the mom, lived on. Mariam, a woman for any other purposes did not.

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